man, to haue many courtiers come to his houfe! Sweetly was it faid of a good olde houfe-keeper; / had rather want meate, then want ghefts: fpecially, if they 220 be courtly ghefts. For, neuer truft me, if one of their good legges made in a houfe, be not worth all the good cheere, a man can make them. Hee that would haue fine ghefts, let him haue a fine wife; he that would haue a fine wife, let him come to me. CRIS. By your kind leaue, Mafter Albivs. Albi. What, you are not gone, Mafter Crispinvs? Cris. Yes faith, I haue a deffeigne drawes me. hence: pray' fir, fafhion me an excufe to the ladies. 225 ALBI. Will you not ftay? and fee the iewels, fir? 230 I pray you ftay. Cris. Not for a million, fir, now; Let it fuffice, I muft relinquifh; and fo in a word, pleafe you to expiate this complement. CRIS. Ile prefently goe and enghle fome broker, for a Poets gowne, and befpeake a garland: and then ieweller, looke to your beft iewell yfaith. 235 238 Exit. Q, G, N 235 Exit. Finis Actus 218 many] may Q 225 Re-enter Crispinus. G, N Q, G, N 236 ingle N 238 Exi. Q Act III. Scene 1. Hot. li. 1. Sat. 9 H HORACE, CRISPINvs. Mh? yes; I will begin an ode fo: and it fhall be Cris. 'Slid, yonder's Horace! they fay hee's an excellent Poet: MECONAS loues him. Ile fall into his acquaintance, if I can; I thinke he be compofing, as he goes i' the ftreet! ha? 't is a good humour, and he be: Ile compofe too. Hora. Swell me a bowle with luftie wine, Till I may fee the plump Lyævs fwim Aboue the brim: I drinke, as I would wright, In flowing meafure, fill'd with flame, and fpright. Cris. Sweet Horace, Minerva, and the Mufes ftand aufpicious to thy deffeignes. How far'ft thou, fweete man? frolicke? rich? gallant? ha? HORA. Not greatly gallant, fir, like my fortunes; well. I'm bold to take my leaue, fir, you'ld naught elfe, fir, would you? Cris. Troth, no, but I could wifh thou did'ft know vs, Horace, we are a fcholer, I affure thee. HORA. A fcholer, fir? I fhall bee couetous of your faire knowledge. 5 IO 15 20 CRIS. Gramercie, good Horace. Nay, we are new turn'd Poet too, which is more; and a Satyrift too, which is more then that: I write iuft in thy veine, I. 25 Act . . . CRISPINVS.] Enter HORACE, CRISPINUS folHot. 9] [Hor. lib. i. sat. HAh? 1640 HA! 1716, W 16 Not] Nor 1716 ACTVS TERTIVS. SCENA PRIMA. Q The Via Sacra, (or Holy Street.) G, N lowing. G Horace meditating. N 9.] W om. G, N Umph G I Hor. Q, 1716+ 2 Enter CRISPINUS. N 17 I" am 1640 you'le 1640 you'll 1692, 1716, W, G I am for your odes or your fermons, or any thing indeed; wee are a gentleman befides: our name is Rvfvs Laberius Crispinvs, we are a prettie ftoick too. [295] Hora. To the proportion of your beard, I thinke it, fir. CRIS. By PHœвVS, here's a moft neate fine ftreet, is't not? I proteft to thee, I am enamour'd of this ftreet now, more then of halfe the ftreets of Rome, againe; 'tis fo polite, and terfe! There's the front of a building now. I ftudie architecture too: if euer I fhould build, I'de haue a houfe iuft of that profpectiue. Hora. Doubtleffe, this gallants tongue has a good turne, when hee fleepes. Cris. I doe make verfes, when I come in fuch a ftreet as this: O your city-ladies, you fhall ha'hem fit in euery fhop like the Mufesoffring you the caflalian dewes, and the thef pian liquors, to as many as haue but the fweet grace and audacitie to fip of their lips. Did you neuer heare any of my verfes? 30 35 40 HORA. No, fir (but I am in fome feare, I muft, 45 now.) Cris. I'le tell thee fome (if I can but recouer 'hem) I compos'd e'en now of a dreffing, I faw a iewellers wife weare, who indeede was a iewell her felfe: I preferre that kind of tire now, what's thy opinion, 50 Horace? Hora. With your filuer bodkin, it does well, fir. Cris. I cannot tell, but it ftirres me more then all your court-curles, or your fpangles, or your tricks: I affect not thefe high gable-ends, thefe tufcane-tops, nor your coronets, nor your arches, nor your pyramid's; giue me a fine fweet little delicate dreffing, with a 26 Sermones 1640, 1692, 1716 37-8 [Aside. G, N "Sermones" N 45-6 [Aside. G, N 55 36 I'ld 1640 48 dreffing] veluet cap Q 50 now [Describing it with his hands.]; N dreffing] veluet Cap Q 57 delicate bodkin, as you fay: and a mufhrome, for all your other ornatures. Hora. Is't not poffible to make an efcape from him? Cris. I haue remitted my verfes, all this while, I thinke I ha' forgot 'hem. Hora. Here's he, could wifh you had elfe. 60 CRIS. Pray Iove, I can intreat 'hem of my memorie. Hora. You put your memorie to too much 65 trouble, fir. Cris. No, fweet Horace, we muft not ha' thee thinke fo. Hora. I crie you mercy; then, they are my eares That muft be tortur'd: well, you muft haue patience, eares. Cris. Pray thee, Horace, obferue. Hora. Yes, fir: your fattin fleeue begins to fret at the rug that is vnderneath it, I doe obferue: And your ample veluet bafes are not without euident ftaines of a hot difpofition, naturally. Cris. O I'le die them into another colour, at pleafure how many yards of veluet doft thou thinke they containe? Hora. Hart! I haue put him now in a frefh way Cris. S'light, thefe verfes haue loft me againe: I fhall not inuite 'hem to mind, now. 70 75 80 HORA. Racke not your thoughts, good fir; rather, deferre it 85 [296] To a new time; I'le meete you at your lodging, CRIS. Nay, gentle HORA. Yes, fir. down vpon me. 60 [Aside. G, N 74 bafes] hose Q [Aside.] N 63 [Aside. G, N 79 Hart!] om. 1640 89-90 [Aside.] G, N CRIS. Rich was thy hap, fweet, deintie cap, There to be placed: Where thy fmooth blacke, fleeke white may And both be graced, white is there vfurpt for her brow; her forehead: and 95 then fleeke, as the paralell to fmooth, that went before. A kind of Paranomafie, or Agnomination: doe you conceiue, fir? Hora. Excellent. Troth, fir, I muft be abrupt, and leaue you. CRIS. Why, what hafte haft thou? pray thee, ftay a little thou fhalt not goe yet, by PнœвVS. Hora. I fhall not? what remedie? Fie, how I fweat with fuffering! Cris. And then HORA. Pray, fir, giue me leaue to wipe my face a little. Cris. Yes, doe, good Horace. Hora. Thanke you, fir. 100 105 Death! I muft craue his leaue to piffe anon; Or that I may goe hence with halfe my teeth: I am in fome fuch feare. This tyrannie Is ftrange, to take mine eares vp by commifsion, Whofe freedome, and impatience of this fellow, Would, long ere this, haue call'd him foole, and foole, And ranke, and tedious foole, and haue flung iefts 116-118 Happy the bold Bolanus, now, I say: Romes Common Buffon: His free Impudence 119 flung 1716, W, G |